


Oblivion

by LadyFogg



Series: Constantine Oneshots & Prompts [18]
Category: Constantine (Comic), Constantine (TV), Hellblazer
Genre: Angst, Beach Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Feels, Little Mermaid Elements, Making Love, Oral Sex, Smut, mermaid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 11:41:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10830555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyFogg/pseuds/LadyFogg
Summary: Cursed by a sea witch for saving John's life, you're forced to live as a human once a year for all eternity. This time when you return to land however, you find John has a plan to finally break the curse.





	Oblivion

**Author's Note:**

> Totally random and that's why I had to write it. Not sure how the lone thought of “beach sex” turned into an 18 page angsty, emotional fic, but here we are. 
> 
> Fic Song: https://open.spotify.com/track/24H4wGyPM6u6fMuiVWJI0M

 

The water is nearly black, the rippling light of the moon guiding you to the surface. You swim up as fast as you can, however the witch’s curse is starting to take hold and you can feel the changes. It hurts. Goddess does it hurt. You’re being ripped in two, your fin tearing in half to make your human legs as your scales float down into the inky deep. 

All this for saving John Constantine’s life. 

You break the surface of the water just as your gills merge with your skin and vanish, leaving you gasping for air, vowing next year to wait a  _ little  _ less time before making your way up. Your lungs are on fire as you try to get your bearings. The dock is barely visible in the distance and you start to swim for it. But you’ve come up further away than you anticipated, and you find yourself getting swept up in the tide. Your legs are swollen and aching, fumbling and weak in  comparison to the strength and dexterity of your fin, and you’re having a hard time staying afloat. 

Through the darkness, a small motor boat cuts through the water, pulling up alongside your flailing body, and you recognize the offered hand as soon as it’s presented. You grasp for it, holding tightly to the warm wrist with clammy hands. 

John still hasn’t gotten much stronger over the years, but between the both of you, you’re able to get into the boat. There’s a lantern by his feet, giving you some light to see. It takes a while for your eyes to adjust and when they do, you find a familiar smile greeting you. 

Now that you’re out of the water, the cold sea breeze is extremely unpleasant. You’re shivering and you curl yourself into a ball to try to hide from it. 

“I got you, love,” John coos softly, covering you with several large towels. “No worries, I’m here.” 

“H-Hurts every d-d-d-damn t-time,” you manage to say through chattering teeth, clinging to the scratchy cloth. 

John lays his trench coat over the towels for added warmth, hand stroking your wet hair afterwards. “I know,” he says. “Which is why I’ve come prepared this time!”

From underneath his seat he withdraws a small bag. You watch him pull out a bottle that rattles when it shakes. After removing something from it, he replaces the objects and then grabs the thermos that's on the dash. He squats down next to you, extending his hand. 

“Here you are, love. Pain pills,” he says, showing you the two small, round, white pills. “This should help dull it for a bit.” 

You put the disgusting pills in your mouth and he helps you take a sip from the thermos. Delicious, hot chocolatey liquid slides down your throat, washing the pills with it. Aww, he remembered. Last time he gave you something called coffee and it was absolutely terrible. This is much better. 

“Thanks,” you say when he pulls the thermos away. 

“It’s no trouble,” John assures you. He pushes your hair back from your face, giving you another soft smile. “You look good.” 

“You look old. And tired.” 

It’s true. There are heavy bags under his eyes and his body is hunched. The last ten years have not been kind to him. 

He gives you an incredulous look. “Are you having a go at me already?” he asks. “Bloody hell. Been back five minutes…”

You let out a small huff, still in too much pain to properly laugh. “Considering the circumstances, I’m allowed to give you grief from now until the end of time,” you reply. “That's how long this curse lasts, remember?”

“Yeah, well, can’t argue there,” John agrees. “Alright, let’s get you to shore.” 

It’s a short ride, but your body is so exhausted from the transformation that you doze off anyways. The burning in your legs is persistent, preventing you from relaxing too much. You jerk awake when John hops out to tie the boat to the dock. After, he carefully climbs back in to help you out. 

Legs still stiff, you have difficulty standing. John slides his arm around your waist and you lean most of your weight onto him, stumbling on your way out of the boat. It's feels like you're stepping on shards of glass, your feet not yet recovered from their reappearance. Gritting your teeth, you force yourself to keep walking. 

John helps you toward the small cabin just off shore. The lights are already on inside, and you can’t wait to sit by the fire. All those years ago, the first time you saw fire you thought it was too hot. Eventually you learned to cherish it, because it was the only thing to chase away the ridiculous chill. 

You’re walking a little better by the time you make it to the building, feet remembering the correct sensation of the soft sand. The front door suddenly opens and you’re startled when a human woman bounds down the steps toward you. Immediately you stop in your tracks, recoiling.

John holds you close. “Shh, it’s alright, it’s alright,” he says soothingly. “This is Zed. She’s a friend of mine. I brought her along.” 

The woman called Zed stops a few feet in front of you, a look of awe and wonder on her pretty face. “Dios mio,” she says. “She’s a mermaid? Like, a real mermaid?”

“Most of the time,” you say. Your legs quake, tremors shooting up them, and you almost fall. 

John and Zed are quick to catch you. “Come on, let’s get her inside,” John says. 

He and Zed help you into the cabin, where you’re greeted with a crackling fire, and the smell of something delicious coming from the vicinity of the kitchen. 

Blankets are already spread out on the couch and Zed helps you lay down while John goes to get fresh towels. 

Zed is staring intently at your face. “Can I help you?” you ask, raising an eyebrow at the scrutiny. 

“I’m sorry! I don’t mean to be rude,” she says. “I’ve just never met a mermaid before. When John told me about you, I kinda thought he was making it up.” 

You chuckle, sliding his trench coat off and hanging it on the back of the couch. “A wise thought, considering he makes a lot of things up,” you say. Those pain pills John gave you seem to be doing the trick, though your head's a little fuzzy now. 

John reappears with fresh towels. “Here, love,” he says. “Let’s get you dry.” 

He and Zed help you dry off and slip into some clothes. Once that’s taken care of, you collapse onto the couch again, drained. You sit tucked into the corner, a comforter wrapped around your body so that all that’s showing is your head. Zed gently runs a brush through your long hair, working through the tangles, carefully avoiding the sea shells, trinkets, and braided bits of seaweed you like to adorn. 

“John never brings a guest with him,” you say, glancing up at her. “You must be pretty special.” 

“Oh, it’s not like that,” she says immediately. “We’re just friends.” 

“Zed and I have more of a professional relationship,” John corrects, moving to the kitchen area in the corner of the room. “I asked her to meet you because I think she can help us find the witch who cursed you.” 

“That would be nice,” you sigh longingly.

“How did it happen?” Zed asks. “John, you never gave me specifics.”

“About ten years ago I was on a sort of, supernatural booze cruise, if you will,” John explains. “You know, magical beings all gathered together for a laugh. Well, was playing poker with the witch and a couple of others. She didn't take too kindly to me besting her.”

“Translation, he cheated and got caught,” you say to Zed.

She rolls her eyes. “I gathered as much,” she smirks. “That's usually how these things go.”

“Anyways,” John continues. “She chucked me overboard. Right there in the middle of bloody nowhere!”

“Of course, I saw him and brought him to the surface,” you interject. “The witch said if I swam him to shore I would regret it. Naturally, I ignored her because she was heavily intoxicated, and I didn’t think she would even remember. Yet, here we are.”

“So you're cursed because John screwed up and a drunk sea witch got pissed? That's bullshit,” Zed declares.

“I was a young twat,” John says, turning to the table behind him. “But I'm working on fixing it.”

There's a tightness to his voice that makes you think he may be upset. Maybe Zed calling him out rubbed him the wrong way.

“What smells so good?” you ask, hoping to change the subject. 

“Food,” John announces, rustling through the plastic bags in front of him. “Figured you’d be hungry after all that nasty business.”

“Did you bring burgers?!” you ask, sitting up abruptly, wincing as it causes Zed to pull on your hair. “Those were really good last time! And those things that came with them. Ugh, what were they called...oh, fries!”

John laughs at your excitement, and Zed giggles as she finishes braiding your hair. “I see he’s been introducing you to the finer human things,” she teases. 

You watch John move about the kitchen and pull a couple of plates out of the cabinet. “A bit,” you say. “I’m not on shore for very long so I don’t need to know much. Mostly we just eat, sleep, and have sex.” 

The plates slip from John’s hands and he scrambles to catch them in a hilarious physical display you’ve never witnessed. Thankfully, he manages to keep them from crashing to the floor. The tips of his ears are red, and you realize you probably shouldn’t have told Zed that you and John have sex. That may be one of those private things you keep to yourself. You vaguely remember him explaining the idea to you last year. 

Zed gives him a look of disbelief. “Really, John?” she asks. 

“Oi, no judgement from you over there,” John points at her after he carefully places the plates on the table. “What she and I do together when she’s on shore is between us.” 

“Well, the sooner I have my vision, the sooner I’ll be out of your hair so you can...do what you do,” Zed says. She comes around to sit next to you on the couch, looking serious. “John asked me to come because I’m a psychic. I get visions when I touch people or things. We figured, if I can get a vision of the sea witch, we can locate her and find a way to break the curse.” 

“Well, the only way to do that will probably be to kill her and then destroy whatever object she used to bind the curse,” you say. 

“Won’t killing her work on its own?” Zed asks. 

You shake your head. “Unfortunately, no. That’ll just make sure she doesn’t come after you.” 

Zed nods with understanding and squares her shoulders, taking a deep breath. She holds out her hands. “Do you mind?” she asks. 

Worming your hands out from the snug comforter, you place them in Zed’s. The curly-haired woman closes her eyes and concentrates. You’re not sure what you're expecting, but there’s really no indication anything magical or important is happening. Looking over at John proves pointless, as he is busy removing your dinner from the take-out containers. 

Eventually Zed opens her eyes again and bolts from the couch. You watch curiously as she rushes to the table, grabbing a pad of paper and pencil. She sits and begins to draw. 

“Is she well?” you ask John. 

“Oh yeah, she’s fine,” he says, coming over with a plate of food and a large glass of water. “She just needs to draw what she sees or it drives her mad. Here you are, love.” He puts both objects on the wooden table in front of you, and you untangle yourself from the blanket. 

“Thanks.” 

He joins you with his own plate a few seconds later, while Zed remains at the table, sketching furiously. 

You take a large bite of the burger, moaning as the savory flavors overwhelm your palate. 

John chuckles, watching you fondly. “Good?” he asks.

Mouth too full to answer, you nod enthusiastically. The both of you enjoy your meal in silence, which is a change. Normally you’d be talking a mile a minute, catching each other up on the last year. But with Zed there, you don't feel particularly chatty. John doesn't seem to be either. 

It doesn't last long. Zed finishes her sketch just as you finish your burger. She brings over the pad and squats by the couch, presenting the image. 

“Look familiar?” she asks.

You nod at the drawing of the sea witch. “That's her.”

“Do you recognize these?” Zed asks, showing you several other sketches. 

There's a hut on a beach, and a few rock formations, both of which also look familiar. “Actually, yes,” you say. “That's a couple hours west of here. Just off the local beach.”

Zed scribbles down directions to the place and looks to John. “I'll call Chas. We'll go there now,” she says, getting to her feet. 

John places his empty plate on the coffee table and stands. “Perfect. I'll stay here,” he says. “If the witch sees my face, it won't go well.”

Zed rolls her eyes, grabbing her bag off the floor. “Sure,” she says. “ _ That's _ why.”

John raises his eyebrow. “Is that a hint of jealousy I detect?” 

Zed snorts and shoves her sketchbook into the bag. “In your dreams,” she scoffs. To you she smiles and kneels back down. “It was really nice meeting you. We're going to take care of this. Promise.”

“Be careful,” you warn. “She acts like she's frail, but she's really not. She'll also try to trick you into staying. Don't eat or drink anything she gives you.”

Zed nods at your warning, standing once more. John follows her to the door and they share a few words before she leaves. Finally alone, John turns to you, smiling. 

By now you've gotten to your feet, the pain almost gone thanks to the strong pain pills, and he crosses the room. “Warm enough?” he asks.

“Could be warmer.”

John smirks and watches as you sit on the floor in front of the fire. You open the comforter expectantly. He rubs the back of his neck as he slinks over, sitting down next to you and cuddling close. 

This is usually how your visits start; cuddled by the fire together as you try to get warm. The addition of Zed seemed to make John self-conscious. You wonder why that is. You’ve never known John to be hesitant about anything. Then there was the awkward friend-versus-colleague distinction. And you could hear the hopeful lilt when John asked after her jealousy. You’re thankful you only have three days on land; you find the trepidation of human courting tedious. 

John slides his arm around you, and it's then you realize how tired you really are. You slump against him, yawning loudly. 

“You should get some sleep,” he says, rubbing your back. 

“Soon,” you promise. “I just want to sit here for a bit.”

John nods in assent, shifting to get comfortable. Your senses are still adjusting to the change, the odd silence of the room being broken by the occasional crackle of the fire. 

Eventually the silence it too much to bare and you decide to break it yourself. “It comes sooner and quicker each year,” you say. “I didn't get a chance to get to the dock.”

“I noticed you struggling,” John comments. 

“Those first years were awful,” you recall. “I'm glad you thought of this place. Makes it much easier.”

“Hopefully this will be the last time.” His voice is carefully guarded, though you think you might detect some sadness there. When he sees you stifle another yawn, he smiles fondly. “Time for bed.”

You don't argue this time. 

After stopping in the bathroom to wash up, relishing the familiar slide of water on your skin, you find your way to the bedroom. John has pulled the sheets back and opened the large windows, the cool sea breeze wafting in. The dryness of the air is disconcerting, but you can taste the familiar salt with each breath. 

You crawl into bed, and a few minutes later John emerges from the living room, closing the bedroom door behind him. He strips down to his boxers, and climbs in next to you. Once he settles, he opens his arms and you shift into them.

His lips find yours, sharing a soft kiss. 

You sigh dreamily, melting against him. The gentle massage of his mouth does nothing for you at first, but when he cradles the back of your head to deepen the kiss, your body comes alive.

Your skin erupts with goose bumps, a stab of desire making you line your body along his.

John nips your bottom lip as he draws back. “I always look forward to our visits,” he says softly. “Even if I feel absolutely rubbish about it.”

“It was my choice to save you,” you tell him. “I knew who she was and I did it anyways. You have nothing to feel guilty about.”

John is silent, which is usually an indication that he doesn't agree with you. Instead of saying so, he simply presses a kiss to your forehead. “Sleep, love,” he says softly. “You need your rest.”

You burrow yourself into his embrace, tucking your head under his chin. 

Sleep doesn't come quickly, despite your exhaustion. Your eyes flutter closed, your breathing evens out, yet you can't drift off. Everything is too soft and too still. Try as you might, you can't get comfortable and find yourself constantly shifting. 

Eventually, John rolls onto his back, pulling you with him so you're curled up on his chest. His steady breathing helps and you're finally able to settle against the movement. Once that happens, you fall into a deep sleep. 

The next morning brings bright sunlight and a warm, wet breeze. Beneath you, John's chest continues to rise and fall, luring you back to the dream world. But your temporary legs have grown stiff so you gently slide onto the bed, stretching out next to him. In his sleep he follows you, curling along your back. You smile and settle against him, falling asleep once more.

The next time you wake, it's much hotter and John is gone. Untangling yourself from the bedsheets, you climb out of bed and wrestle out of your warm clothes. The smell of food wafts into the room from the kitchen and your stomach grumbles. 

After a series of stretches and visiting the bathroom, you leave the master suite to search for John. 

You find him in the kitchen, pausing to admire the image of him at the stove. He's mostly dressed, the top buttons of his shirt undone and showing a few wisps of chest hair. He swears as the grease from the pan pops and splashes over his hand. 

“Having some trouble?” you tease. 

“Nah, it's fine,” John assures you, taking the pan off the burner and placing it on one that's already turned off. When he glances over your way, he grins. “Forget somethin’, love?”

“If you mean clothes, no. I didn't forget,” you assure him, crossing to the front door. “I just don't like them.”

You step out onto the porch and inhale the salty sea air. The area the cabin is in is a private stretch of beach, so there's no worry of nosy onlookers or beachgoers. Supposedly it’s owned by a friend of John's, and you have to admit that it’s gorgeous. If Zed ends up breaking your curse, you’ll miss this stretch of sand and the quiet moments the most. 

“Breakfast is ready,” John says from the doorway. 

“Is it that greasy blob that was attacking you a second ago?” you ask. 

John winces. “There's also fruit,” he suggests. 

You chuckle. “I'll have the fruit.”

About twenty minutes later, you're stepping out onto the hot sand on your way to the water. You walk all the way in up to your waist, and then stop, the tension melting away. What you wouldn't give to just be able to dive in and swim back home. Eyes closed, you savor the sounds of the waves crashing, an occasional seagull cawing overhead. 

Your body instantly adjust to the water's temperature. The sun is hot and beats down on your exposed skin in the most wonderful way. It's all so comforting that you could probably doze off standing there. A presence on the shore behind you forces your eyes open and you crane your neck around to look at John. He has spread out a blanket on the sand and is lounging on his elbows, sunglasses balanced on his nose. 

“Coming in?” you ask.

“I prefer dry land,” John says with a wry smirk. 

Smiling softly, you turn to face him, arching your back enough to puff out your bare breasts. “You sure?” you flirt.

John looks at you over the tops of his glasses, his smirk widening as he quirks an eyebrow. “Feeling better already? Usually it takes you at least a day to recoup.”

“The water helps,” you explain as you move in his direction. “So...join me?”

John contemplates for a moment, looking around. Deeming it safe, he gets to his feet and begins to undo the rest of the buttons of his shirt. You watch him undress with amusement. 

The first time you saw him naked had been strange. You have seen humans nude before, but never up close. As a result, you had spent the better part of an hour inspecting every inch of him. Not that he had minded. 

Now the sight of him makes you flush, your stomach fluttering with excitement.

Kicking out of his pants, John tosses his sunglasses on top of them and leaves his clothes in a pile, before walking into the water. He immediately makes a noise of discomfort. “It's bloody freezing!” he complains, fists clenched and shoulders tense. You laugh, meeting him halfway. 

“I can help with that,” you purr, extending your hands. 

John takes them and relaxes, your body’s natural magic helping him adjust to the temperature as quickly as yours did. “Oh, that's nice that is,” he says, allowing you to pull him further into the water. 

“Just hold on to me and you won’t get cold,” you say, walking backwards. 

“Aye, I remember,” John says. “Don't even need magic for that. Just the sight of you is enough to warm me up.”

Laughing, you move his hands to rest on your waist. The water is over your chest now and you stop walking, pressing against John instead. He holds you close and rests his forehead to yours. Together you stand in silence, taking in each other’s energy.

You slide your hands up his arms and shoulders, only stopping when you cup his face. The kiss is just as gentle as it was last night, at first. His lips are quick to deepen it, pressing harder while his tongue glides along your bottom lip. You sigh softly, opening your mouth to let him. 

Against your thigh, his cock twitches with interest. But you're not quite ready for that yet and you draw back. John's eyes are hooded, his lips glistening from your kisses. 

“How are you?” you ask softly, stroking his cheek.

“Just peachy, love.”

You sigh at the deception. “John, I may only see you once a year, but that doesn't mean I don't  _ notice  _ things. You look exhausted.”

John reaches up to tuck your wind swept hair behind your ear. “I appreciate the concern, but it's nothing you need to worry about,” he insists. “We're going to unbind the curse and you'll never need to see my mug again.”

“I kind of like your mug,” you smile.

“That’s nice,” John says. “Considering I'm the reason you have to go through this mess every year.”

“John, I'm only here for a short time,” you remind him. “Let's not waste it.”

He leans in for another kiss but you dance away teasingly. “Come back, It's cold again!” he complains, reaching for you.

Your mischievous smile makes his smirk fall and points at you. “Don't you bloody dare,” he warns.

On the next wave you direct it at him, dousing him completely in the salty water. John spews curses and you laugh at the way his wet hair covers his eyes. He tries to reach for you, but you've already disappeared under water. Swimming around him, you come up behind his back and before he can spin to catch you, you tackle him.

“Bloody hell!” is all you hear before you both fall under the waves. 

When you come up again, John's spitting water. “There, now you don't need me,” you grin. “You're used to the water all on your own.”

“I don't know,” John says, lips curling into a small smirk. “I think I still need warming up.” Then he dives for you. 

The next few minutes are filled with shrieks and splashes. John tries desperately to get his hands on you. Water being your domain works against him, and you're able swim out of his grasp every time. 

He huffs with annoyance. “You’re not playing fair,” he scolds. 

You come up right in front of him. “Aww, don't pout,” you mock.

John grabs you and this time you let him. “Unfair advantage,” he says. “Not all of us live in the sea.”

You open your mouth to tease him, only to find yourself being kissed deeply. His hands come to rest on your lower back, and you run yours up his arms, squeezing his biceps. 

John nips your bottom lip, tongue swiping the spot before slipping into your mouth. You groan, body warming under his touch. His cock nudges your thigh and this time you're ready for it. 

Withdrawing from with the kiss, you give him a mischievous smirk and wrap your hand around him. John grins lazily, cupping your face, thumbs stroking your cheeks. 

Reacquainting yourself with his body, you run your palm along his length, marveling in the smoothness. It swells in your hand and John peppers your lips with excited kisses. 

“Don't be shy, love,” he purrs. 

“I'm not shy,” you deny, giving him a squeeze. “I'm trying to remember how you like it.”

John's hand drops under the water and he covers yours, squeezing harder. “Lemme show you,” he grunts. 

Together you stroke his cock, mouths connecting in a hungry kiss. You hook one arm around his neck and moan, body washed in a wave of heat. Once you have the right amount of pressure, John lets you continue on your own, while his grabs your hip. 

The way John holds you has been your favorite thing about this curse. His embrace is always firm and warm. Ever since the first time you reconnected after the curse, his embrace has always made you feel safe and secure. 

John withdraws, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. He's smiling now, the weight of whatever is bothering him disappearing for the moment. He grinds his cock into your hand excitedly. 

You let him go to wrap your legs around his waist. John's hands slide down your back under the water, only to grip the backs of your thighs. 

He carries you towards shore, only pausing his kisses when the water recedes and he's forced to carry your full weight. 

The blanket is warm from the sun, and John lays you onto it, trying to avoid getting sand everywhere.

You're more preoccupied with his cool body shuddering along yours. You slide together effortlessly, John's hands stroking every bit of exposed skin he can while you grind together. Kisses become hungrier and hands greedier, nipping and pulling with encouragement. 

“Can you put your mouth on me?” you ask, noting how breathless you sound. 

John smiles against your mouth. “Bloody hell, yes,” he coos, kissing his way down your neck. 

Those firm hands knead your breasts, as his lips find their way to one of your nipples. It's already stiff, and John latches onto it, flicking his tongue over the nub before sucking greedily. Your hands find his hair, yanking the wet locks when you feel the teasing scrape of his teeth. 

John lets you go with a smack of his lips, grinning cheekily as he runs the pad of his tongue across your other nipple, circling the first with his thumb. 

“That's not what I meant,” you huff.

John's laugh is deep and gravely. “Taking my time. It's been a year. I want to revisit  _ all  _ my favorite spots,” he teases, hand gliding down your stomach.

“Oh,” you reply intelligently. His fingers spread your lower lips apart and you sigh softly. “ _ Ohhhh.” _

When he first touched you, it had been after the fourth or fifth change. You had asked about sex and he had been all too happy to explain the mechanics. But you're curious by nature and words did nothing. You needed him to show you.

And show you he did. He was careful as he is now, fingers swirling through your wetness, waiting for you to relax before he becomes bolder. 

John’s mouth is still at your breasts, his fingers drawing more warmth and wetness from you, stroking your slit with expert ease. His teeth press against the underside of your breast just as he presses down on your clit. 

The stimulation makes you jerk against him with a moan, and John continues his kisses lower. A nip here, a kiss there, the scrape of his teeth along your hip...

At the first lick along your folds, you suck in a breath and hold it, until his tongue prods further, and firmer. 

Your legs are lifted over his shoulders, and you exhale, shaking with each stroke and flick of his tongue. 

“How does this always feel so  _ good? _ ” you groan, clutching his hair.

You can feel John's grin, his hot breath ghosting across your wet flesh. “What can I say? I have a natural talent.”

“I know that's supposed to sound cocky,” you gasp as he slides his fingers into you. “But I'm inclined to agree.”

The same can't be said for you. There have been times you've tried pleasuring him with your mouth, but you could never quite get the hang of it. 

John wraps his lips around your swollen pearl and sucks hard, just as he crooks his fingers inside of you. The results are instantaneous. Your hips jerk upward off the blanket and you cry out, pulling his hair. 

Between the sun and John's mouth, the water starts to dry on your body, leaving you sun-kissed and warm, the leftover salt sticking to your body. Clouds move to block the rays, and John drags his eyes open to look up at you, humming with approval.

“I'm a lucky bloke,” he groans, moving his lips to your thigh. “Not many people can say they've gone down on a mermaid.”

You roll your eyes, but whatever clever retort you're working on flies out of your head as the tips of his fingers brush a spot deep inside of you. After that, talking seems pointless. 

John pleasures you with his mouth and fingers, drawing you closer and closer to oblivion, until you can't hold back anymore, and double over with a loud moan. Your orgasm freezes you in place, mouth forming a silent “O” as your body shudders and twitches, until the pleasure fades and the tension releases. 

You collapse boneless on the blanket, while John eases his fingers out of you, lapping at your slick. 

“I never get tired of seeing you come,” he admits, petting your thigh. “Ready for more, love?”

“Mmm, yes,” you purr, stretching your delightfully loose body. “Are you?”

John pulls his pants closer, drawing a condom out of the pocket. He sits back on his knees, cock hard and red, the tip decorated with a drop of precum. 

“What do you think?” he asks, palming himself. 

“Do you want me to try my mouth on you again?” you offer. 

You're not really in the mood, but you feel it’s polite to at least offer. 

John shakes his head, stroking himself. “No need, love,” he grunts. “I'd rather be inside you.”

You moan with longing and spread your legs, watching him tear open the wrapper and carefully pull the condom out. His eyes drag back to yours once he's rolled the rubber on. Hooking his hands under your knees, he wraps your legs around his waist and takes hold of himself. 

“Remember, relax,” John encourages in a soft voice.

“John, please,” you beg. “I need you.”

John carefully pushes the head of his cock into you with small thrusts, deepening each time you moan and loosen around him. He lets go of himself to place his hand next to your head, steadying his body to keep from falling forward.

You feel so impossibly full, it takes your breath away. John swears, drawing his hips back, and then moving them down in a shallow thrust. The pleasure is overwhelming. It's almost as if your body does this with John all the time. 

Your eyes drift closed and you sink into the blanket as he starts a steady rhythm. When he lowers his body to cover yours, the heat and sweat makes you cling to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

You're surrounded by John. His scent fills your nostrils, his mouth claims your neck, his cock stretches you so wide, you're still surprised he can even fit inside you. But he does and it's beautiful, and sensual, and perfect.

Without realizing it, your hips have started moving on their own, meeting him each time he thrusts. It forces him as deep in as he can go. You tighten your legs around his hips, heels digging into his round backside.

John has always had a knack for reading your body, and this time is no different. He stays buried in you, one hand sliding in your hair to cradle your head. The other grabs your thigh, helping him keep his thrusts short and deep. 

Mouths meet sloppily, the telltale signs of a second orgasm making your head too fuzzy to be precise. The angle and the deepness of John puts just the right amount of pressure on your nub, and you find yourself spasming underneath him just a short time later.

Now that you're sated, John pushes himself up on his hands, his hips snapping forward in a more brutal fashion. It's about his pleasure now, and press your nails into his shoulder blades, dragging them down harshly.

“ _ Bloody hell _ , love!” John moans. “I'm so close.”

“What do you need?” you moan. “John, what can I do?”

John drops down and smashes his mouth to yours, which is all he apparently needs because then he's jerking and shuddering against you, hips stilling for several seconds until he eventually collapses with a grunt. 

Panting and gasping for breath, you lay in a tangle of limbs, foreheads pressed to each other's necks.

John rolls off of you a moment later, looking deliciously spent and disheveled. You close your eyes and listen to the sound of the waves, syncing your breathing with their steady beat against the shore.

Next to you, John removes the condom and shoves it into the torn package. There's some rustling and then the click of his lighter, before cigarette smoke fills the air around you, clouding the smell of the ocean. 

Muscles delightfully loose, you lounge on the towel and the clouds move, the sun bathing you in its warmth once more. John lays on his back, hand behind his head and a cigarette dangling from his lips. 

Somewhere in the pile of clothes, strange music starts to play, breaking the comfortable silence. John sits up with a wince, digging through for the source of the noise. He draws out a cellphone and swipes the screen.

“Yeah, Zed. How d’ya fair?” he asks, taking a deep drag. 

You sit up anxiously, biting your lip as John listens to Zed, face frustratingly passive. 

“Alright, I'll tell her,” John says.

When he ends the call you can’t help but ask, “Well?”

John's smile is wide, however it doesn't quite reach his eyes. “Looks like you're going back home tonight, love,” he says.

Your stomach churns with mixed feelings. On one hand you want to sob with relief. You'll have your life back without this painful interlude. 

But that would mean you'll most likely never see John again. Never eat burgers with him in front of the fireplace. Never have early mornings wrapped in warm bedsheets as he curls around you. Never make love with him on the beach. 

John exhales the last of his cigarette smoke, putting the stub out in the sand. 

“You're sad,” you realize.

“I'll be just fine, love,” John gives you a wry smile. “It's for the best.”

“I'll miss you too,” you say, sliding your arm through his. You rest your head on his shoulder, watching the waves.

John doesn't answer, or move. Determined not to let the little time you have left go to waste, you ask, “How long before Zed gets back?”

“It's gonna be a few hours,” John says. “They got into a spot of trouble with the cab. Chas is fixing it up now.”

“Alright then.”

You straddle John's lap and shove his chest. He falls flat on his back, looking up at you with a questioning smirk. 

“What are you doing up there?” he asks.

“You're sad. I don't want our last hours together to be sad,” you tell him.

John's soft cock gives an interested twitch between your legs as you roll your hips, grinding down against him. You're still slick from the last round of sex and you smoothly glide along his length, biting your lip in anticipation. 

John sighs with contentment, running his hands up your thighs. “Ready to go again already? Your stamina rivals mine,” he grins.

“I spend my life swimming,” you remind him teasingly. “I need good stamina.”

John pushes himself up to sit, placing a hand on your lower back to keep you balanced on his lap. The warmth from his chest is wonderful and you run your fingers through the light dusting of hair there. He cups your cheek, studying your face through half-lidded eyes, almost as if he's trying to commit it to memory, to freeze you in time exactly as you are now.

“Kiss me,” you order.

John's smile widens and his eyes flicker to your lips. Slowly, he leans in. And when the softness of his mouth covers yours, you melt into his touch, moaning at the familiar thrill of excitement. Hand still cradling your cheek, he deepens the kiss, lips pressing harder. There's a bitterness to this one that has nothing to do with his cigarettes.

His farewell tinges every caress of his lips to yours, and you say you own goodbye to John in every muffled whimper he coaxes from you as he clutches you to his chest, hand slipping from your cheek to grip the back of your head. His fingers dig into your lower back, nails leaving crescent indents, not unlike the shape of your scales. 

His cock is harder now, and John directs your hips up. When he reaches for another condom, you lay your hand over his to stop him.

Brow wrinkled, John tilts his head, in question and confusion. Instead of answering, you wrap your hand around his cock, stroking a few times and earning a low groan for your efforts. Wide-eyed, John watches you direct the head of his cock through your folds, pursing his lips when you wait for his answer to your invitation. 

Hands stroking your back, John swallows thickly before flexing upward, pushing into you at an achingly slow pace.

The feeling is even more incredible than before. You can feel every ridge, bump, and vein, your body encasing him hungrily. John moans, pausing when he finds himself buried completely inside your heat, nothing between you this last time.

You try to move but he grips your hips tight. 

“Don't.”

The word is breathless and rushed, betraying how overwhelmed John is. You slide your arms around his neck and dip your head for another kiss. Only then does John start to move again, using those wonderful hands to lift you up and drag you back down. 

Your bodies rock together like the tide, the beach around you melting away until all you can focus on is the pleasure you're sharing. 

John's movements are rougher than last time, a desperate edge to each push of his hips, chasing his pleasure and focused on claiming you, making you squirm. You're no gentler than he is, digging your nails into his biceps, grinding as hard as you can against his lap. He bites down on your shoulder, dragging a cry out of you even as he soothes the mark with his tongue.

You can't help but call out his name, while he mumbles sweet words against your skin, arms tight around your waist. A few wet drops on your skin make you drag your eyes open to look down at John. He kisses you desperately, and when your hand cradles his cheek, your thumb brushes away a stray tear. 

This time, you feel his release branding you from the inside out. With a guttural moan and whispered warning, John comes inside of you, so forcefully his seed spills onto his lap and your thighs.

You’re crying now, coming down from the maelstrom of conflicting pleasure and pain that had whipped up during this final time with John. You bury your face in his hair, smelling the sea on him, and despite being on land, you’ve never felt more at home. He tucks his head under your chin, tasting at the hollow of your neck, arms still wrapped around you in a tight embrace. 

Your human form never has and never will belong to anyone other than John. It seems fitting.

Hours later, you sit side-by-side on the dock, watching the sun start to set. You're wrapped in a towel and nothing else, while John sits fully clothed. His feet are bare and his trousers are rolled up to his knees as he mirrors you and dips his legs in the water. 

“This has been a very educational experience,” you remark, breaking the tense silence. 

John chuckles around his cigarette. “I'll say,” he responds. “I've now got the entire history of mermaids stuck in my head.”

“You're welcome,” you tease, nudging him with your shoulder. He nudges back.

From the other end of the dock you hear footsteps. Zed looks exhausted but unharmed as she jogs toward you. John flicks his cigarette into the water, ignoring your scoff as he gets to his feet. 

“Well?” he asks.

Zed doesn't say anything, only reaches into her messenger bag and pulls out an object wrapped in cloth. John gingerly takes the bundle from her and unwraps it. The intricate conch shell glitters in the setting sun, perfectly spiraled and shimmering with magic.

“You ready, love?” John asks, facing you.

Nodding, you slip your towel off and hop off the dock into the water, wiggling your toes one last time. John mutters an incantation and then throws the conch against the ground, shattering it into tiny pieces. There's a rush of wind as the magical energy is released, and then your legs start to tingle, body shaking as the curse begins to lift.

It becomes difficult to remain floating so you allow yourself to sink under the water, lungs burning and body convulsing until…

You breach the water with a delighted splash, looking up at the worried humans. 

“Did it work?” Zed asks. 

Grinning, you splash water at them with your fin. Zed barely avoids getting wet, while John gets a face full of sea water, his cigarette butt tangled in a piece of seaweed hanging from his ear.

“I say that's a yes,” he grumbles, swiping it away.

Zed laughs and kneels down as you swim closer. “Wow,” she gushes. “You're beautiful!”

“Thanks, Zed,” you tell her, folding your arms on top of the dock. “For everything. I owe you one.”

She shakes her head. “No you don’t,” she says. “Just cleaning up John's messes,  _ like always _ .”

“Oi!”

“Well, he's lucky to have you,” you smile. 

Zed smiles back, standing. “I'll give you two some privacy,” she says to John.

Constantine nods, dropping to his knees. The two of you share a silent look, neither sure what to say.

“You could come with me,” you whisper.

John smiles softly. “Promising me freedom and immortality? You must be back to your old self,” he teases. “Thanks, love. Rather not get dragged down to my death.”

“You wouldn't,” you reply with desperation, leaning up so your faces are a mere inch apart. “If anyone can survive the change, you can.”

John studies you closely before reaching out to stroke your cheek. “Sorry, love,” he says. “I'm not yours to keep.”

“I know,” you concede, leaning into the touch, savoring the feeling while you still can. “Worth a try.” You glance over at Zed, who is staring at the violent reds and oranges splashing across the sky. “You should tell her, John. She deserves to know how you feel about her.”

John doesn't say anything, only blinks rapidly and purses his lips. You consider him for a moment, head cocked to the side, assessing him shrewdly. 

Decision made, you remove one of the sea shells tangled in your hair and say, “Give me your hand.”

John does as you command, and you press the shell to his palm. “In case you need my help again,” you explain, closing his hand around the object. “Throw it anywhere in the ocean and I'll be there. Promise.”

John slides his hand into your hair and kisses you a final time. Unable to help it, you slowly sink back down into the water, tugging him gently. John chuckles and withdraws, untangling your arms from his neck.

“Goodbye, love,” he says.

“Goodbye, John,” you reply, the words not strictly necessary; your goodbyes were said on a blanket covering hot sand, the sun beating down on you both desperately clinging to one another.  You look at the heavy bags under his brown eyes, memorizing each line of his face before you turn from the dock, splashing him one final time as you disappear under the water.  

After a few feet, you resurface and look back. John and Zed are standing next to each other watching you. As you wave, you notice John slip his hand into hers and you smile softly. 

They wave back and you turn away, diving under the water and swimming towards home. 

 


End file.
